


Nine-Ball

by Remembertherandler



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Disagreement, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pool & Billiards, alcohol consumption, crude gestures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10227917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remembertherandler/pseuds/Remembertherandler
Summary: Link shook his head and shoved aside condiments and half-empty leftover containers before snatching a bottle of Sam Adams from among the clutter. He pulled out his tight black t-shirt to cover the cap and twist it free of the bottle, kicking closed the refrigerator door and leaning against it across from Rhett and taking a long swig.Rhett widened his eyes, waiting for Link’s retort that never came. “What? So now you’re just going to ignore me, is that it?”“You said you didn’t want to fight.” Link took another long draw from the brown bottle in his hand, condensation running down over his fingers and dripping onto his leather boots.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift for [@julie1974](http://julie1974.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for my 800 follower giveaway. She was caught up on the image of Rhett with long hair pulled up into a bun and Link in motorcycle leathers.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, lovely! ;)

“Look.” Rhett walked in through the door Link held open. “I’m not going to fight about this again.” He pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the kitchen counter.

Their apartment was small, but it did the job. The kitchen was perfectly serviceable, its narrow counters offering up enough surface area for the essentials at least: a coffee maker, toaster, and Link’s new blender that probably cost more than most everything else they owned. The dingy light, one of its bulbs burnt out, hung from the ceiling overhead.

“That’s the problem, Rhett.” Link slammed the front door, shaking the walls and leaving the curtains to fall in its wake. “I don’t want to fight.” Link threw his hands in the air. “I want to _talk_.”

“Pfft!” Rhett scoffed, resting his lower back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. His Henley pulled across his chest and tugged the collar.

Link pushed aside the flaps of his leather jacket and shoved his hands into the pocket of his black jeans. “D’you ever get tired of being so damn smug?” Link asked, stepping past him and pulling open the fridge door. The white light inside brightened his features, revealing the dark shadows under his eyes and the stubble emerging from his cheeks.

“I’ve come to terms with it.”

Link shook his head and shoved aside condiments and half-empty leftover containers before snatching a bottle of Sam Adams from among the clutter. He pulled out his tight black t-shirt to cover the cap and twist it free of the bottle, kicking closed the refrigerator door and leaning against it across from Rhett and taking a long swig.

Rhett widened his eyes, waiting for Link’s retort that never came. “What? So now you’re just going to ignore me, is that it?”

“You said you didn’t want to fight.” Link took another long draw from the brown bottle in his hand, condensation running down over his fingers and dripping onto his leather boots.

“I thought you wanted to _talk_ ,” Rhett mocked, reaching up and tightening the bun on the top of his head before placing his hands palm up on the counter on either side of his hips.

Pursing his lips, Link gripped the bottle in his hand, nails digging into the label.

“Just say it!” Rhett hollered.

“Fuck you, Rhett!” Link slammed the glass bottle onto the counter and walked to stand toe-to-toe with him, looking up at Rhett from under a sweep of dark hair that had fallen across his brow. “You think this is easy for me?” Link’s jaw was tight and he spoke through gritted teeth. “You think I want this?” He reached up and shoved Rhett’s shoulders with the tips of a few fingers.

Rhett pushed him back and stepped out from between Link and the counter. “Don’t you?” Rhett’s brows knit over his eyes. “You’re the one who moved us here!” Rhett laced his fingers together on top of his head and paced the kitchen.

Link ran his thumb and forefinger over his temples and drew in a long breath. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Yeah. So you’ve said.” Rhett’s hands fell to his sides.

“Look Rhett, I don’t know how many more times I can apologize.” Link toed his shoe over a crack in the linoleum tile. “No one’s making you stay.”

Rhett’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. “Tell me you’re not fucking serious?”

Link said nothing and kept his eyes trained on his feet for a long moment.

“You know what?” Rhett stalked past him and snatched up his jacket, throwing in on and heading for the door, ripping it open. “You’re right.” He stepped out onto the stoop.

Link followed him to the door and held it firmly in his hand as he hollered out at Rhett who was jogging down the steps. “Rhett… wai–”

Rhett flipped the collar of his jacket and then tossed his hand in the air, middle finger raised as he stalked off.

“Fuck you too!” Link screamed, standing on the tips of his toes and puffing out his chest. “Running away from your problems like a fucking child!”

Rhett didn’t turn back; he continued down the sidewalk until he disappeared into the nearest alley.

Link chewed his lower lip for a few moments before stepping back inside and slamming the door, wincing as the concussive sound filled the room. He reached behind his neck with one hand, cupping it and looking up at the water-stained ceiling.

Link had insisted they move. He’d had one too many run-ins with the wrong sort in Los Angeles and was beginning to fear it wouldn’t be too long before he’d manage to drag Rhett into his mess. He recalled the night he’d sat on their bed, everything he could cram into two duffle bags, bulging at the seams. Rhett had come home to find his entire world flipped on its head.

Link had brought him here, to outskirts of Tucson, to escape a life he was done living. To start a life together, but it meant leaving everything behind, everything and everyone. At the time Rhett had stared bewildered and gathered the last few things he could manage to stuff in his pockets and climbed onto the back of Link’s bike without protest, but in the days following, the reality of a blank slate had sunk in.

Before he’d met Rhett, Link had no interest in self-preservation, or had time in the day for give-a-shit. He’d wake to find himself with a split lip and a pair of bruised ribs more times than he cared to count. His life had always been a roundabout of piss-poor decisions carrying him down a path into darkness.

If Link was honest with himself, he didn’t deserve Rhett. The circumstances of their meeting should have been enough to scare him away, but Rhett was undeterred by the shiner under Link’s eye and his rather forward approach, lack of give-a-shit and all. It didn’t take long before the world began to look a little brighter.

In the beginning, Link had tried to keep the seedy details of his life hidden, construct a façade cemented by wit and bravado, but Rhett saw right through him, had led him free of the darkness that had tethered him by the wrists and ankles for so long. He’d managed to convince Link that a pattern can be broken, that a future is not entirely dictated by a past.

Link brushed the hair back from his forehead and rubbed at his weary eyes, his contact lenses scratching and stinging. He crossed the kitchen and plucked his drink from the counter, his fingers white-knuckling around the bottle as he brought the brim to his lips. He breathed in hoppy notes as he muttered under his breath into its opening. His hand fell to his side, his fingers clinging to the neck of the bottle. “Dammit Rhett…”

He poured out the contents of the bottle into the sink and grabbed his helmet from the chair next to the door and rushed out after Rhett.

~~~*~~~

“Rum and coke.” Rhett unzipped his canvass jacket and ran his hand over the somewhat unkempt hairs of his beard before leaning over the bar, waiting for his drink.

The bartender blended his selection and slid it down the bar. He pulled the cloth from his shoulder and wiped down the trail it left behind.

Rhett gave an appreciative nod and headed for the pool tables in the corner, ducking under low-hanging lights. He set his drink on the small table in the corner and selected the longest cue from among those placed in the rack.

The smell of stale beer and perhaps a tinge of vomit drifted through the hazy air. Curls of grey crept up from the fingers of a pair of grizzled looking men at the bar. It was clear that the patrons of this particular establishment weren’t overly concerned with ‘smoke-free’ legislation, or any legislation for that matter.

Rhett peered around the room at the signs and photos. A wood plank, plastered with a ‘Take Your Tab and Shove It’ sign, hung prominently over the bar. It was still early. If this place ever saw a crowd, it wouldn’t be early evening on a Wednesday.

Rhett laid his cue on the worn felt of the slate table and racked a game of 9 ball. He rolled the battered wooden frame back and forth more times than was expressly necessary before placing the lead ball on its mark. He hung the rack from the hook on the wall and chalked his cue.

“Dragging me to this dump,” he muttered as he bent down and lined up the break, the cue sliding between his fingers. “I did this for you.” He gritted his teeth and hammered the cue ball into the others, the colliding resin bouncing from the side rails with satisfying force, garnering him the attention of the men seated at the bar. “I did this for you and–”

A cow bell over the small entrance door rang out and street noise flooded into the quiet space. Rhett’s eyes shot to the paint-chipped steel door. Link. He watched as Link crossed the room – eyes never meeting Rhett’s – and sidled up to the bar, hauling himself up onto a stool, facing away.

Rhett looked down at the tip of his cue, market and flecked, before lining up for another shot; his follow through was perhaps a little more powerful than necessary, but effective nonetheless. The cue ball glanced off the one, sending the four into the corner pocket.

_One._

Link spun around slowly, his brows crinkled.

Rhett’s eyes locked with Link’s for only an instant before he stepped around the table and sunk a second ball.

_Two._

Rhett squeezed his eyes closed, resting his weight on the table’s edge for a moment before standing tall, his chest inflating with a shallow sigh.

Link ordered a beer over his shoulder and resettled in his seat, one foot dangling, the other propped in the rung of the stool.

Rhett set his cue at his feet, resting it against his leg and taking another sip of his drink. He traced the ring of condensation with the pad of his finger, smearing it into a puddle on the scratched table surface before wiping drying it across the thigh of his jeans and tossing the cue back up into his hand, leaning over the table again and expertly banking in another shot.

_Three._

Link stood and nudged his stool back under the bar top, resting on his elbow on its surface, brown bottle dangling from his fingertips, lower lip pulled between his teeth.

_Four._

The quiet corners of the bar began to fill with the low hum of a silent stereo before the snaps and pops of a needle over dusty vinyl preceded the first few notes of an unfamiliar song.

The blue dust of chalk fell across Rhett’s fingers, the cube rubbing the pigment into the cracks of his calloused fingertips as he twisted it between them.

Link pushed away from the bar and moved to lean against a pillar. Closer.

_Five._

Rhett’s features softened, his grip on the cue loosening.

_Six._

Link set his beer on the table and moved closer still, hands tucked in his pockets, chin to his chest.

_Seven._

The table was nearly clear, the flickering lamp above it reflecting back from the remaining targets.

_Eight._

Link trailed his fingers along the edge of the table and stood at Rhett’s side, hand now resting on the small of Rhett’s back. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Rhett whispered.

_Nine._

“So am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome and appreciated more than you know!
> 
> Much love and thanks for reading <3


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